


give me a boost over heaven's gate

by Skyebyrd



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Genderbending, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:47:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24383044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyebyrd/pseuds/Skyebyrd
Summary: The only thing she can see, the only thing she can fucking focus on, is a singular tube of red lipstick sitting on Eddie’s vanity. It’s placed happenstance, like Eddie had pulled it out and set it down and forgot about it. Like Eddie had gone to put it on and then thought, oh, coffee sounds better right now, and went to do that instead.And it’s like -- fuck, what was that dog thing? Pavlov’s dog. Richie has a Pavlovian response to this particular tube of red lipstick.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 10
Kudos: 136





	give me a boost over heaven's gate

Eddie’s vanity is always impeccably organized. 

Richie is forbidden from going near it. Well, not forbidden.  _ Strongly asked _ to please stay away. And Richie isn’t a complete and total asshole, no matter what the group chat says on a daily basis, so she doesn’t touch Eddie’s vanity. She doesn’t move anything that’s on it. 

It’s an older style vanity, something they found at an antique shop in the mountains. They rehab furniture, that was their whole schtick, and Eddie had been enamored with almost everything in there. She has an eye for that kind of thing. Eddie is all classic style and Richie is a loveable trash nostalgia mountain. Richie is kitschy and Eddie is clean and they love their house together. 

Eddie’s in the shower right now. Richie just got in from their garden; tomatoes are a bitch to plant but it will hopefully pay off. Her already short hair is half up on her head, a messy bun because she can’t be fucked to make it look nice even on a good day. She unbuttons her shirt and tosses it into the bin, dropping her jeans to the floor, too, and stepping out of them. She goes to move to her dresser and then goes back to put the jeans into the bin. 

Eddie is clean. And even if Richie isn’t, she can respect her girlfriend’s wishes for a clean bedroom. She can do her part. 

Richie tinkers around in her underwear for a bit, shuffling through drawers and her side of the closet and pulling out the clothes she’s going to wear to Bev’s benefit tonight. Richie doesn’t have anything super nice, per se, but she does have one suit, albeit oversized. She’s a lesbian, it’s fine. She’ll just call it a fashion statement and it’ll go viral or whatever. 

The shower shutters off, the water tinkling onto the tile. 

“Hey, can you turn that back on, please? I’m about to hop in!” Richie yells towards the bathroom, taking off her bra. Dirt unfortunately sprinkles onto the floor when she does. “Fuck,” she mutters. She’ll have to sweep that up when she’s done…

Richie can hear when Eddie turns the water back on, the pressure kicking back up. She puts her underwear into the bin and goes into the en suite, seeing Eddie bundled up in her towel and her hair wrapped up, turban style. She’s putting on her eye cream, using that special metal ball roller to do so. They even have a miniature fridge for all of Eddie’s skincare needs, which Richie finds so incredibly endearing. Not that Richie doesn’t take full advantage of a cool face mask now and then, of course. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” She says, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Eddie’s shoulder. 

“I just got clean, don’t go spilling dirt all over me or whatever,” Eddie says, swatting at her half-heartedly. 

“Yes, dear,” Richie laughs, stepping into the shower. They’d splurged for a fancy one with tile and a glass door. Richie isn’t actively paying attention to Eddie but she is always aware of Eddie, so she notices Eddie pulling her hair down and getting the blow dryer out, once she’s done with her skincare routine. Her hair is so long, now, halfway down her back and full even while wet. Richie lathers her own up, having to do a couple washes to get all the dirt out (how did it even get up there?) and Eddie leaves after a few minutes, leaving her towel in the basket and replacing it with a silk robe. 

Richie finishes up her shower, grabbing a clean towel and blow-drying her own hair. She pats some moisturizer on her face because that’s about as complicated as she gets on a good day (and it is a good day), and walks out into the bedroom. He can hear Eddie puttering around down the hall; probably in the kitchen, making a coffee or something. Eddie likes her afternoon coffee. 

Richie stops. 

The only thing she can see, the only thing she can fucking focus on, is a singular tube of red lipstick sitting on Eddie’s vanity. It’s placed happenstance, like Eddie had pulled it out and set it down and forgot about it. Like Eddie had gone to put it on and then thought, oh, coffee sounds better right now, and went to do that instead. 

And it’s like -- fuck, what was that dog thing? Pavlov’s dog. Richie has a Pavlovian response to this particular tube of red lipstick. 

It’s not one Eddie wears very often, but every single time she has worn it, they’ve had sex. Like, the good, intense, searing sex that leaves Richie exhausted for days, that once made it so she was walking crooked the next day. There’s already heat coiling up in Richie’s stomach and her breath shortens, goosebumps spreading across her arms. 

Eddie walks back into the room, humming, sweet and unassuming. She’s still in her short, shiny silk robe, her hair tumbling down her back, unbrushed and gorgeous. She just goes to sit at the vanity like nothing’s different and -- God. Fucking Christ. She doesn’t know. 

Or she does? Does she know? Is she trying to be this much of a tease right now? 

Eddie just puts on some music; it’s one of Eddie’s favorites, an Adam Young instrumental album. Eddie likes to put those on in the background while she putters around. She says the lyrics are usually too distracting. Eddie sets about beginning to style her hair, continuing to pull things out of drawers and setting them back when she’s done with them. 

Richie’s paying very close attention to the red lipstick that is not fucking moving. Eddie hasn’t touched it at all. Richie’s looking into their wall mirror on the opposite side of the room as she messes with her own hair, peeking at Eddie behind her every now and again. She’s never really particular with it but -- tonight is a special night for Bev. Richie can at least try to make an effort. 

She does eventually give up, however, walking out of the room and going down the hall towards their hall closet. She pulls out their broom and dustpan so she can sweep up the dirt that accumulated earlier. When she gets back into their room Eddie is pulling on -- fuck.  _ Fuck _ . She’s pulling on her nice underwear, her gorgeous blue panties and matching bralette that just  _ does things _ to Richie. She turns around when she hears Richie walk in and--

She’s wearing the lipstick. Eddie is wearing the Pavlovian red lipstick that is making Richie wet  _ already _ . 

Okay. Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But Richie is feeling things. 

“Oh, I would’ve gotten that,” Eddie says, looking at the broom in Richie’s hands. 

Richie’s hands are shaking. 

“No...I’ve got it,” She says, going over to the dirt and sweeping it up. She dumps it into their bin to the side of the bed as Eddie goes back to her vanity, pulling her cup of makeup brushes closer to her and taking a sip of her iced coffee. Richie’s phone goes off, a small little buzz alerting her to a text. 

_ 17:06 _

Bev:  _ hey fucker dont b late _

Richie frowns at her phone. 

_ wont be !!!! ik how important this is 2 u _

Bev responds back with a knife emoji and the topic is settled. 

“How much longer do you think you’ll need? Bev’s already anxious, I think.” Richie puts her phone back down on the nightstand, digging through one of the drawers for some comfortable, smooth underwear to wear under her pants tonight. 

Eddie looks over at her, blush brush poised to dust her cheeks. 

“Um, probably an hour? Forty-five minutes?” She says, and Richie can’t look away from her mouth. 

“Perfect,” She chokes out. “Plenty of time.”

Eddie’s back is gorgeous. Her spine is perfectly curved. She’s got little moles and freckles dotted all over her skin, clusters of stars that Richie loves to kiss, but she can’t see any of that right now. Eddie’s put her robe back on; she hasn’t tied it up, though, so it just flows out around her chair. 

Richie is a boobs girl. Fucking sue her for looking. Her girlfriend has the most perfect pair of tits in the galaxy. They’re not, like, huge but...but they do fit right into Richie’s hand. A perfect size to cup and give a slight squeeze. The robe sits on her tits just right and it’s--fuck. Fuck, her girlfriend is so fucking hot.

“Did you look at the oil in the car?” Eddie asks, swiping a small amount of highlighter over her brow bone. It’s subtle, only just catching the light. 

“Babe, when have I ever looked at the engine of our car?” Richie asks, forcing herself to turn away and begin getting dressed. 

Richie can hear the clatter of a brush being set down forcefully onto the vanity. 

“Rich, you cannot just keep insisting I do all of the work on that car. You always get horny and nothing gets  _ done _ .”

Richie laughs and Eddie joins in, against herself. 

“Angel, I will never not be horny watching you bent over the hood of that car. It is unbelievably sexy to know you’re smart enough to know what you’re looking at, let alone that you can fix it. And when your hands get dirty?” Richie whistles, drawn out. “Sexy.”

“Look...alright, I’ll look at it tomorrow. But you have to promise to keep your hands to yourself!”

“Maybe.” She smiles, slipping her jacket over her shoulders. “No guarantees.”

Eddie scoffs, but Richie can hear the love in it, knows that Eddie has that small little smile she makes when she’s desperately trying hard not to smile. 

Eddie gets done with her makeup after a while, Richie passing the time by sitting on the bed and trying very hard to ignore the red staining her girlfriend's lips. By the time they get to the venue, Richie’s legs won’t stop rubbing together, a subconscious effort to afford her literally any kind of relief possible. 

There’s all sorts of gorgeous kings and queens walking around them, some camp, some glam, some casual. Some new, some old, some with obviously nothing much more than a hot glue gun and a passion for fashion. They meet up with Ben, Mike, and Bill soon after walking into the venue. 

“Wow,” Richie says, seeing a few queens walk past Bill and absolutely towering over him. “It’s almost like--”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” Eddie says, swatting at her. Richie barely suppresses a moan. Jesus fucking shit, can she be normal for one day? Maybe? Please?

They’re running a bit early so they’re easily able to snag a table enough for all of them to fit as most of the performers go backstage again and the emcee for the evening walks onstage, heels clattering onto the stage and wig teetering over her head comically. 

“Gaydies and gentlemen! Esteemed colleagues! Best friends, weirdos, and losers! Thank you so much for coming to this annual fundraiser for Futures Without Violence. All proceeds from the show go directly to them and their fight against domestic violence and support of victims and survivors. Additional donations can be made by cash, check, or card with any of our volunteers posted at the table at the back. And also a huge thank you to all of our volunteer performers tonight, as well, who are going to put on a spectacular show for y’all tonight! And without further ado, please welcome to the stage, your host...Winter Fire!”

Beverly-as-Winter-Fire walks out on stage, shoulder pads fluffed out to the max, full beard, and soaking wet hair. There’s a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, not lit but smoking a little bit, and he’s got a cane with a bright jewel on the top that he uses as he limps across the stage. Bev’s got him down pat: an old Mafia ringleader that’s retired and found a love for gardening. 

“Welcome, welcome. Mi familia,” Winter Fire says, an exaggeratedly fake Italian accent rolling off of his tongue. “Are we ready to a-have a, uh, how do you say? Fucking gay time?” 

The crowd roars with laughter and agreement. 

“Then let’s get-a this show on the road!” 

There’s a burst of confetti from the stage and the first performer walks on, Strut from  _ The Cheetah Girls 2: When In Spain _ as the backing music. Richie laughs along with everyone else, applauding here and there, throwing singles at the stage as a tip for the kings and queens that come on. There’s a lot of lip-synching and dancing, of course, intermingled with comedy bits and acting out different catty scenes from movies. 

Bev always manages to wrangle a wild group for this fundraiser and it pays off handsomely, year after year. By the end of the night, they’ve raised almost ten thousand for the drive, and everyone in their group is just on the right side of buzzed. Bev-as-Winter-Fire came to join their table for a bit, putting on a show with Ben for the audience during a brief intermission, before moving on to talk to more investors and donors and guests. 

It’s getting to a point in the night that Eddie’s lipstick is starting to smudge a bit, just past her bottom lip. Richie wants to smudge it more, wants to mess it up all over her face, get it all over her own mouth. Eddie’s talking to Bill next to her, the two of them laughing. 

She reaches out, putting a hang on Eddie’s thigh, high enough to get her point across. She leans in, pressing her mouth to Eddie’s ear.

“I wanna leave, please,” She says, soft. Eddie barely even acknowledges the request, placing her hand on top of Richie’s, entwining their fingers, and continuing her talk with Bill. 

Well. If Eddie wants to play hard to get…

Richie takes their hands and moves them over onto her own lap under the table, taking Eddie’s fingers and pressing them to her stomach. She leans over again. 

“I’ve been wet for hours, babe, please?”

Bill was in the middle of taking a drink of his beer and he spits it out looking over at the both of them. Whoops. Guess she wasn’t as quiet with that one. 

Eddie presses her lips together, closing her eyes. It’s one of those faces she makes when she knows she should be annoyed but is instead endeared beyond all reason, and Richie takes advantage of that as often as she can. 

“Pretty, pretty please?” She asks again. 

Eddie stands up, their hands still clasped together, her chair scraping back loudly. 

“Gentlemen, please tell Bev this was a great event, as always. We have to be going.” 

Richie can’t contain the smile that bursts across her face. The boys catcall as they leave, Richie tripping over her shoes once or twice as she tries to keep up with Eddie’s brisk pace. They have to duck and weave between the crowds of people near the bar but once they’re beyond the exit, it’s a clear jog over to the car. 

Eddie opens Richie’s door, because she’s the most perfect fucking girlfriend in the history of the universe. Richie slides into the passenger seat while Eddie goes around and gets behind the wheel, putting her hand on the stick and shifting into reverse. 

“Have I told you before that I find it incredibly hot that you can drive stick?” Richie asks, just barely resisting the urge to touch herself. 

Eddie laughs, even if it’s a bit strained, the muscles in her arm subtly shifting as she moves the gear into third, and then fourth, the engine growing louder the faster they go. 

“Only every time I drive,” Eddie says, hitting the clutch and down shifting when a car pulls out in front of them a bit too close for comfort. And then, after a few minutes, “What do you want?”

Richie hadn’t even noticed her eyes had closed, head lolling in her stupor. “Hm?” She says, being pulled out. 

“What do you want tonight? Do you want the strap? Do you want to be tied up?” 

_ God _ . 

“You saying all of that while holding onto that gear shift fucking does shit to me, baby.” Richie half moans, shifting in her seat as the car moves around a corner a hair too fast. 

“I know.” Eddie says and that’s just. Fuck. Eddie Kaspbrak’s confidence is hot. “What do you want me to do to you tonight?” Eddie licks her perfect, gorgeous red lips as she speaks. 

“I wanna eat you out.” Richie breathes and Eddie’s jaw clicks. 

“That’s--this isn’t about me, baby,” Eddie says, turning into their driveway, a clear pause to the conversation. They get out of the car and tumble inside, Eddie grabbing onto Richie’s arm and pulling her into a bruising kiss, pressing her to the table inside the entrance. Eddie’s hands are all over the place, grabbing onto Richie’s ass and tugging a bit on her hair. 

Richie is not in the mood to fuck around, though. She hikes Eddie’s dress up and slips her fingers underneath Eddie's panties, rubbing against Eddie’s wet pussy. 

They pull back from the kiss with a gasp and a wet smack, Eddie’s knees buckling just a bit from the unexpected touch. Eddie grabs her wrist and forcibly pulls her hand away. 

“What do  _ you _ want tonight?” Eddie asks, again, leaning back. Richie tumbles forward, pressing her mouth to Eddie’s neck, lathing her tongue just a bit. She feels Eddie moan under her mouth and needs to get her mouth elsewhere immediately. 

“I want to eat you out,” Richie repeats. “Please.”

Eddie grabs her by the jaw and pushes her back, looking her square in the eye. They both stare for a few moments and Richie guesses Eddie found what she was looking for because she nods and says “Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Okay. That’ll be your treat tonight.” 

Richie’s knees shake and she loses her breath a moment. A treat. A treat. A treat. A tre-

“Let’s go to the bedroom, angel.”

Eddie leads her back there. She takes her time, the rush from before nowhere to be found as she stands Richie by the foot of the bed and takes her jacket off for her. They’d lost their shoes by the door when they came inside, so that’ll be fine, thankfully. Eddie sets about unbuttoning Richie’s undershirt and all Richie can look at is her girlfriend’s mouth. 

“Can you put more lipstick on?”

The request comes unbidden. It takes Eddie a bit off guard, taking them both out of it a bit. 

“More lipstick?” Eddie repeats. “I can...it’ll get messy.”

Richie has to sit down at that. Messy.  _ Messy _ . Messy, messy, messy--

“Is that what you want? For it to get a little messy?” Eddie backs up a bit, unzipping the back of her dress and stepping out of it so she’s just wearing her blue panties and bralette. She then moves back to the vanity, flipping on the little star shaped lamp on it so she can see better as she sifts through her drawers. Richie sees the moment she finds it; there’s a pause, a weight, and then a reveal. 

The snick of the tube opening makes Richie moan and she has to lay down, cover her face. Everything is on fucking overload mode right now. 

“You don’t want to watch me put it on?” 

Richie cracks her eyes open, peeking down at where Eddie stands in the glow of the light. Eddie presses the lipstick against her top lip, right at the top of her cupids bow, drawing it down to the corner. She mirrors the action again on the other side and then presses her lips together. 

“How’s it look?” She says, closing the tube again and placing it just so on the vanity. “Good?”

Richie can’t--she can’t answer. 

“Of course,” It’s not nearly enough, not to say what she wants, but -- but that’s what she wants to  _ show _ Eddie for. Richie reaches down to start unbuttoning her pants and slide them down her legs, trying to at least get them on even footing. She doesn’t get around to sliding her shirt off of her shoulders before Eddie’s coming back over and straddling her on the bed and sitting her back up. 

Eddie’s tits are right in her face. They’re right -- they’re right  _ there _ . Richie feels like a woman starved as she shoves her face right there, licking and biting. 

“Easy, cowgirl,” Eddie says, pulling Richie back by her hair. The tug is nice, pleasant. A gentle ache. Eddie’s other hand goes to Richie’s shoulder and pushes her shirt down; she leans down, pressing a wet kiss to the newly exposed skin, and Richie  _ whines _ . It leaves an imprint of Eddie’s lips, stained red and smudged. 

Eddie helps her finish getting undressed, bra and panties and all, but stays in her own underwear. They situate themselves further up the bed and Eddie asks the question that’s been plaguing Richie’s mind all night, 

“Do you want me on top or bottom?”

“Top,” Richie moans out, having to touch herself to relieve  _ something _ . Eddie grabs her hand away and shoves it to the mattress before clambering up over top of Richie, shuffling up the bed backwards, her ass hovering over Richie’s face. 

Is it gross to say Richie fucking loves the smell of Eddie’s pussy? Maybe. But she does. 

Eddie presses her still-panty-clad pussy onto Richie’s face, pressing down and  _ rubbing _ . 

It’s wet. It’s wet and it’s humid and sticky, all over her face. Richie presses her tongue up, up, up, in, just a bit, and Eddie moans, digging her nails into Richie’s thighs. Eddie leans over, her tits pressing to Richie’s stomach, and kisses along Richie’s thighs and -- shit.  _ Shit _ . 

She’s getting lipstick fucking  _ everywhere _ . 

Richie moves her hands up, grasping onto Eddie’s waist, and pulls her further down onto her tongue. Eddie groans, riding Richie’s face quickly, and Richie can’t get enough of the taste. Eddie’s panties are fucking soaked now, and Richie has to pull them out of the way, get inside of her girlfriend unhindered. 

Richie’s rubbing her ass onto the mattress, begging with her body for Eddie to  _ touch her, please, please, anything, please, _ but Eddie’s not giving in. Eddie’s just taking, and pressing, and kissing, and licking, and --

_ Oh. _

Eddie got the message. 

Eddie’s fingers press insistently onto Richie’s clit, rubbing back and forth and then pressing and then circling, gentle and hard and -- 

And Richie’s coming. Simple as that. 

It’s been hours of pent up love and desire, pouring all over Eddie’s fingers. Eddie continues to rut against her tongue until she’s spilling, too, Richie’s face getting stickier than ever.  _ Messy _ . 

Eddie flops onto the bed and neither of them move for a few long, long moments as they each catch their breath. Eddie gets up soon, going to get them a washcloth, and Richie hears the water running, slightly muffled under the blood still rushing through her ears. 

Eddie takes care of her. She wipes her down and puts her clothes in the dirty bin, and then brings them both out clean underwear and pajamas. Silk, for her, and cotton for Richie. Richie’s bottoms don’t match her top and she kind of wants to cry that Eddie remembered that Richie doesn’t like her pajamas to match. 

“I love you,” Richie says, a bit hoarse. Eddie leans over, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, leaving a small, barely there kiss imprint. 

“And I love you.” Another kiss. Another. 

_ Again, again, again, love me again _ . 

**Author's Note:**

> title from heaven's gate by fall out boy
> 
> i'm on twitter @/skyebyrd1 :)


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